Art, Film, Photography, Books, Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

Life Itself

 One thing leads to another. How do you get from the Daily Poem in the Paris Review to a re-read of The Loved One and an exploding portable toilet courtesy of Evelyn Waugh? Here’s the Annmarie Drury poem that caught my attention: Walking in Hills of Which One Has Seen Many Paintings Your task differs: to leave the world to…

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Education, RattleBag and Rhubarb, The Sex Wars

The Silence of the Associations

It has been nearly four months since the publication of the Independent Review of gender identity services for children and young people, known as the Cass Report. There has been no mention of it by the National Association of Independent Schools (NAIS) or its member associations. There has also been no discussion on the NAIS membership Diversity listserv, which frequently…

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RattleBag and Rhubarb

Six Word Story

A legend makes a good story. To win a ten-dollar bet, Hemingway wrote a six-word story. “For sale: baby shoes. Never worn.” Peter- a pondering mind – wrote another: Less painful and poignant, here’s mine          Seagull swoops.          Off go     my chips.                    …

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Art, Film, Photography, Books, RattleBag and Rhubarb

The Hard Way

I received a book in the mail this week. Nothing unusual about that even though I do try to buy my books from my local shop. What is unusual is that this book lists my name in the back. I am among the scores of people who help crowd-source the costs. The book’s subject appealed to me and I was…

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RattleBag and Rhubarb, The Cat

The Cats

Dilys was the first, circa 1980. Unwanted or abandoned, I can’t remember how she came our way but she left small dollops around the apartment until the vet sorted her intestinal issues. This was on 96th and West End Avenue and, of course, when we moved to downtown Brooklyn she came too. It wasn’t long before Mary Ellen alerted us…

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RattleBag and Rhubarb, The Sex Wars

It’s Holy Month

I put this image together in honor of the Holy Month that’s now upon us.  Given the proliferation of days, weeks, and months dedicated to assorted gender identities, you would be forgiven for thinking that every day, week, and month was devoted to special-gender-identity-recognition and to the victims of heteronormativity which of course is a system of oppression created by…

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City and Country, RattleBag and Rhubarb

Columbia, Cats, Cass, and a Spring Stickybeak

Before decamping to Brooklyn for the month I saw this on a utility box on Riverside Drive. Someone had gone to considerable trouble to share thoughts about Columbia University. But the daffs were out and there were others busy stamping their ideas on the sidewalk by the park.  These were presumably inspired by Jonathan Haidt’s new book – The Anxious…

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Education, RattleBag and Rhubarb

The Affair of the Chocolate Teapot

Midge Hazelbrow, the indomitable co-head of Wayward St. Etheldreda’s Academy, took herself for a brisk constitutional down Riverside Drive to the Eleanor Roosevelt statue. By the time she stepped back into the St. Etheldreda’s building that had been her professional home for almost thirty years, her mind was clear.  Of course, she’d already apologized to Tim Endibel for her injudicious…

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Education, RattleBag and Rhubarb

Best Practices, Reading Wars, and Eruption at Wayward

Before the eruption, it was a typical senior leadership meeting at Wayward. Head of School, Tim Endibel, was talking. On this occasion, he was explaining the new academic initiative for the lower school with a professional tone somewhere between evangelical zeal and a station announcement in the subway. John Swadely, Chief of Marketing, Outreach, and Communications (MOC) director, maintained an…

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Education, RattleBag and Rhubarb, The Sex Wars

Words Matter

When I taught fourth and fifth grade at a school that didn’t assign grades, the topic occasionally came up among the students. On the bus, they’d hear their peers from other schools boasting about their As on tests for spelling or naming all the state capitals. Grades seemed like fun and useful bragging points.  We always closed out the week…

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Books, Food, RattleBag and Rhubarb

The Culinary Capers and Comic Catastrophes of Gerald Samper

It was the Gert Loveday review of Rancid Pansies (it’s an anagram) that set me off to read James Hamilton-Paterson’s trilogy of comic novels that chronicles the outlandish misadventures of Gerald Samper. Part Henry Wilt and part Bertie Wooster with a touch of the growing pains of Adrian Mole, Gerald Samper – of the Shropshire Sampers – is his own…

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RattleBag and Rhubarb

Working and Not Working

A post on LinkedIn caught my attention this week.  It’s had over 11,000 views so I’m not alone. Tanya de Grunwald and Dr. Julie Scanlon had an announcement about the launch of a podcast here and here that you can also read below. The title caught my attention and then the topics, some of which have been rumbling about in…

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Politics, RattleBag and Rhubarb, The Sex Wars

Gall, Nerve, Courage, and The Party of Women

 Women’s rights campaigner Kellie-Jay Keen of Let Women Speak had a big announcement last week. Give it a watch. And enjoy some Shirley Bassey covering P!nk at the same time.   I am officially the leader of a political party called The Party of Women. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rc3bCPos11A Yes – it’s the launch of a new officially registered political party – The Party…

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Politics, RattleBag and Rhubarb, The Sex Wars

Making Waves

Two women – Kemi Badenoch and Kellie-Jay Keen – made a splash across the pond on Terf Island this week. First up was the UK Equalities Minister and President of the Board of Trade Kemi Badenoch. In a letter to the Commons Women and Equalities select committee, Kemi Badenoch told MPs that she has strong evidence that gay, lesbian, and…

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Art, Film, Photography, Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb, The Cat

The Hidden Paw

 “The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings. Julius Caesar Act 1 scene 2. There are those who agree with Cassius that we are in charge of our own destiny And then there are those like T.S.Eliot better grounded in reality who understand that we are all at the mercy of mysteries…

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